


Devil May Care

by showmeurteef



Series: All Changkyuns Go to Hell [2]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Body Horror, Crying, Degradation, Did I mention Demons, Humiliation, Illusions, Light Temperature Play, Mentioned dysphoria, Mentioned violence, Multi, Pain Kink, Praise Kink, Religious Themes, background open relationship changki, bit of inferior human kink?, changkyun monsterfucker nation, demon magic powers, disrespecting heaven, dom Minhyuk, dom hyungwon, fear kink, hyunghyuk enbies!!!, hyunghyuk r demons so, hyunghyuk r fascinated by this strange small creature, idk how to tell u this but hyunghyuk demons, implied that this is hyungwon's first time with a human, jumpscare??, minhyuk rides changkyun but not rlly in the human sense, minor bondage, or at least the first time participating, shaming and teasing changkyun for human body parts, sub changkyun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25046194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/showmeurteef/pseuds/showmeurteef
Summary: A hand— hands — not-quite-hands on his ankles. Ghostly, faded imprints of a pair of hands. Made of shadow. Trailing up, up his legs and leaving streaks of charcoal in their wake. Like hot breaths against his thighs. Like shuddering gasps against his zipper.at this point, changkyun is basically a pro at demonfucking. nothing scares him anymore. nothing at all. so hyunghyuk see what they can do to change that <3 ((technically part 2 to playing with fire, but can be read as standalone cuz i just thought it would be neat to write more of this changkyun !! ))extended/explained warnings within - including minhyuk demon form/powers description so u can decide if it's too much body horror for u
Relationships: Chae Hyungwon/Im Changkyun | I.M, Chae Hyungwon/Im Changkyun | I.M/Lee Minhyuk, Chae Hyungwon/Lee Minhyuk, Im Changkyun | I.M/Lee Minhyuk
Series: All Changkyuns Go to Hell [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816156
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	Devil May Care

**Author's Note:**

> warnings/explanations:  
> \- most of the kink negotiation/establishing trust n boundaries takes place prior to this fic ,, but reminder that open communication n trust r essential to any bdsm relationship/practice (+ obligatory reminder that this fic is not a sex/kink manual. pls be safe irl)  
> \- in case u haven't read previous installments of this series: when i say changkyun is into being scared n humiliated i Mean it. this includes comments on changkyun's body in comparison to their demon bodies. pls be careful in case that's not something ur comfortable reading  
> \- hyungwon's dysphoria is mentioned in his discomfort with having his bottom area touched  
> \- hyunghyuk's demon powers include: tricking kyun to think they're somewhere they're actually not, manipulating shadows, n changing their physical forms  
> \- min shifts into something that looks like a cross between a mummified dog & their regular human form, which includes grayish leathery skin, hollow eyes sockets, n canine ish teeth. their body horror also extends towards a weird n intense sensory/touch experience that changkyun's dick has while they ride him. their body sort of actively moves around him i.e. not at all what human anal sex is like
> 
> pls let me know if u need anything else tagged or explained !

“You got _quite_ the... uh...” Changkyun swallows his heartbeat. Wipes his palms on his jeans. Skips a step to keep pace with Hyungwon’s absurdly long legs.

He blinks, blinks, _blinks_ as his brain tries to process the sheer horror of Hyungwon and Minhyuk’s humble abode— or, rather, the seemingly endless maze of hallways that Minhyuk affectionately referred to as their “humble abode” while working out the details of their “cute little fuck sesh.” The front door was more of a warbling, spongy mass of primordial ick than a front door, the walls and ceiling are more of an otherworldly cave —complete with dripping stalactites— than walls and a ceiling. And, as if that weren’t terrifying enough, the whole cave-y hallway is lined with torture devices— _not_ as in sexy torture, but as in You Will Pay For Your Earthly Sins Until The End Of Time Itself torture. Though, Changkyun figures that the line between those two categories is pretty thin.

“...quite the _collection_ , here.”

“Eh, they’re not really my thing.” Hyungwon shrugs his mysteriously bony-yet-broad shoulders, sending gentle ripples through his mane of smoke. “Minhyuk’s the collector.”

Shackles, something like a bear trap but worse, knives, an axe that Changkyun can just _tell_ belonged to a murderer, thumbscrews, more knives, suspiciously stained rope, stocks— Changkyun mentally apologizes to Claire Saffitz of the Bon Appetit Test Kitchen™ for adopting her voice to mentally catalogue such obscenities. _This_ is the fire and brimstone that he had imagined Kihyun’s place would be. What he wouldn’t give to see a Hallmark-branded knick-knack right about now.

“You nervous?” 

Hyungwon’s steps slow just long enough for him to glance back at Changkyun, his eyes inky pools, deep and dark enough to swallow Changkyun whole. Quickly— _too_ quickly, Changkyun averts his gaze. 

He looks down at Hyungwon’s sharp heels stuttering over the marble floor. Tapering into points that should be impossible to balance on. Faint tendrils of smoke fluttering down, down from his head to disappear at his feet. _Fuck_. At least the floor makes sense. At least the endless maze of horrifying human relics is fucking _tiled_.

Changkyun waves a dismissive hand. Scoffs.

It’s just hard to reconcile his first impression of Minhyuk with all of _this_. That’s all. Their huge hand wrapping around Changkyun’s in a handshake that was far too friendly and warm for a _demon_ conference. The way their interrealm conference lanyard swung around their neck with every enthusiastic gesture. The silent conversations shared between them and Kihyun before their big keynote presentation. They were smiley, smart, caffeinated. Not exactly _scary_.

One time, Changkyun waddled out of Kihyun’s bedroom —donning Kihyun’s quilt like a ballgown— to find Minhyuk seated in Kihyun’s living room, a briefcase at their feet and the violet traces of their sudden arrival lingering in the air. They had just quirked their head and laughed that toothy guffaw, and Changkyun had _hyah hyah hyah_ ’d right back. If anything, it was _Kihyun_ who had been all flustered; shooing Changkyun back into the room to put on some “real clothes,” and scoffing at Minhyuk’s disappointed whine. 

And it was _Kihyun_ who had been nervous sending Changkyun off to his “cute little fuck sesh.” Supportive, of course, but straightening the strings of Changkyun’s hoodie with quick, jerky movements and making him promise to be safe approximately nine billion times before opening up the portal between his home and theirs. Changkyun had stepped into the black pit with the assurances that he’d be a good boy and that Kihyun had nothing to worry about, but the portal shrank back around a thoroughly skeptical look on Kihyun’s face. At the time, Changkyun had assumed that the look was a result of Changkyun’s bratty, not exactly ‘good boy’ tendencies, but _maybe_... 

“Maybe you should be.”

Something sticky worms its way up Changkyun’s throat.

The fear Kihyun strikes within Changkyun’s poor human heart is familiar. The sort of white-hot wrath that priests warn you about, that Changkyun’s superiors are most worried about establishing diplomatic relations with. But Changkyun is very, _very_ good at diplomacy and The Great and Terrible Kihyun rarely goes above irritated grandpa, no matter how hard Changkyun tries to stoke the hellish flames within him.

But _Hyungwon_...

“It takes more than a few antiques to rattle me,” Changkyun scoffs again.

 _“Sure_ it does.”

Hyungwon’s gaze doesn’t slide back to Changkyun, eyes steadily directed on a door —a _real, ordinary_ door, Hail Lucifer— up ahead, but Changkyun can hear the teasing smirk in his voice. 

Hyungwon’s come around to the idea of Changkyun, despite his great misfortune to be born among the _human_ species. He gazes fondly more often than he glares, and he teases more often than he hisses.

But the _clack_ of his heels against the tile echoes just a _little_ too loudly for such a small, crowded space. His shadow appears everywhere Changkyun looks; thrown against the wall, clinging to the ceiling, pooled around his feet. And he speaks as if he drags the words out from the pit of his stomach— never from the back of his throat or the tip of his tongue, never where they _should_ be coming from. The laws of physics simply don’t apply to him.

He isn’t ranting and raving to crowded church pews scary. He’s songbirds at midnight, hands fumbling for the light switch, shadows slipping into the corner of your eye scary.

Changkyun’s tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

“What? No counter argument?” 

As he wraps his long, _long_ fingers around the door handle, Hyungwon turns back to look at Changkyun. A soft hum that _should_ sound so much gentler than the hisses he greeted Changkyun with during that fateful first visit to Kihyun’s place, that _should_ be a comforting contrast to his eerie presence. But there’s something about the way his puffy lips twist around it, the way his round eyes glisten.

Changkyun’s stomach flips. 

“I thought you liked to be a brat?”

And Changkyun is mere _moments_ from replying with something really witty —something about Changkyun never being bratty in his downright _virtuous_ life— when the door swings open and Minhyuk makes Changkyun’s argument for him:

“Is that my perfect little angel Kyunnie I hear?”

“It is!” Changkyun skirts the pocket of slimy, chilled air surrounding Hyungwon to collapse into Minhyuk’s open arms, nuzzling his face into their soft shirt. They squeeze and _squeeze_ , and they smell like blackberries, and their smile-scrunched cheek presses into Changkyun’s temple.

Changkyun’s flipped stomach fizzles and pops. He’s a _very_ good boy. _Not_ a brat.

“How are you today, precious boy? You excited?”

Changkyun nods into the crook of their neck, then turns in their hold to grin at Hyungwon. To bat his eyelashes. To sway lightly. 

“See? Perfect little angel, precious boy— _never_ bratty,” he hums. Laughter puffs out of Hyungwon’s chest.

“Okay, _angel_. Whatever you say.” 

Coming from Hyungwon’s lips, the pet name feels like a cold finger tracing the tangled curves of Changkyun’s insides. Changkyun presses his back into Minhyuk’s chest.

“I know we basically already worked everything out—”

“Kihyun was _very_ helpful,” Hyungwon interrupts with a not-quite-gentle smile. Changkyun tugs Minhyuk’s arms tighter around his middle, fingers curling around them like the safety bar of a rollercoaster.

“Mhm, but let’s go over last minute specifics,’kay? Then we can get started.” 

They press a kiss to Changkyun’s temple, voice lilting as if they’re just talking about a game. A water balloon fight. A round of charades. Changkyun tries to keep his heart from dropping into his socks when they pull away. Minhyuk does a little twirl and leaps further into what Changkyun naively assumed would be a bedroom.

“Is this where you...” Changkyun fiddles with the strings of his hoodie. Feels Minhyuk and Hyungwon’s gazes slide over his confusion. “Sleep?”

It’s just... a room with four grayish walls. Unless you count the murky, moldy splotch that clings to one of the ceiling corners, it’s _empty_ , apart from a metal table in the exact center of the room. A surgical looking thing. Cold. Sterile. Meant more for scalpels than patients. It’s almost funny how much the room reminds Changkyun of the horror games he used to play as an edgy tween. Almost. 

“ _Sleep?_ Oh, that’s adorable.” Minhyuk’s eyes twinkle as they and Hyungown exchange a Look.

Despite how utterly _empty_ it is, Minhyuk’s footsteps don’t resound against the tile as they move towards the table. In fact, there’s no echo, no sound at all, except for whatever noises pour out from their mouths. Changkyun can feel the air pressing down on him each time he breathes.

“Kihyun’s probably the only demon I’ve ever known whose place is so... hm... What’s the word? _Cozy_.” Hyungwon snorts and struts over to Minhyuk, leaning an elbow on the table. Soundless. They exchange another Look. “He does it for you, you know? That retiree chic interior design?”

“To make you feel safer.” Minhyuk nods. “Demons don’t need any of that— don’t need _sleep_ , really.”

Changkyun’s insides flutter. Kihyun’s humble abode —like, _actual_ humble abode— is...

“For _me?_ ”

Minhyuk latches onto Changkyun with a pained squeal and gathers up as much of his head and shoulders in their arms as they possibly can, ruffling his hair and squishing his face beyond repair. The affectionate flurry makes Changkyun feel like he’s back in the portal, somersaulting, _falling_.

“He’s so precious. Can we keep him? _Please?_ ” 

They jostle and squeeze and whine, and Changkyun resents being treated like a newfound tiny creature. Like a bizarre little lizard plucked from the garden outside, hung by his tail between Minhyuk’s fingers or trapped in the dark cocoon of their palms. His breath sticks to his lungs. 

“Test run first, _then_ we can talk about snatching him from Kihyun’s nice warm bed and hiding him away in the darkest depths of hell forever.” Hyungwon smiles, but something about the way he soundlessly pats the surgical table replaces Changkyun’s would-be laughter with a nervous shiver. “Bring him here.”

Minhyuk does as instructed, dragging their feet and pouting all the while, and hooks two hands beneath Changkyun’s arms to help him onto the table. The unnecessary gesture makes Changkyun feel so helpless. Especially since Minhyuk’s hands are so huge. Especially since Minhyuk’s eyes are so quick.

“Hyungwon? Any last words?” they prompt, openly smiling at Changkyun’s hiss. 

The table might as well be made out of ice. Really, _really_ cold ice. Dry ice, even. And Changkyun knows enough about demon magic bullshit by now to recognize that this isn’t the work of any advanced Hell-exclusive A/C technology. It’s Hyungwon’s very presence; cold and clinging.

“Me?” Hyungwon hums and slides next to Minhyuk, dousing the air between them in wintery musk. “Hmm... just no touching my bottom area. Also, insulting me is fine, but don’t yell at me.”

“No changes from what we talked about for me, and you can touch and yell at me all you like, but... are you _sure_ that you like being scared, Changkyun? Like, for _sure?_ ” 

Minhyuk’s eyes widen. Hyungwon nods thoughtfully. Changkyun gulps.

“Yes...? I mean, I think so?”

“Do you like being surprised?”

“What about unnerving sensations? Creepy crawlies?”

“Do you have any phobias?”

“Do you like feeling _watched?_ ”

Minhyuk and Hyungwon peer down, _down_ at Changkyun. Make him feel like a specimen strapped to the freezing metal table. He’s more aware of his own, squishy, pink _humanness_ than ever before.

“I... guess I’m a little claustrophobic, but...” Changkyun’s stomach flips as Minhyuk and Hyungwon exchange another Look, pursing their lips with something like... disappointment? “Even though I’m a _perfect angel_ —” he lifts his nose up at Hyungwon, “— I do like to be just a _touch_ bratty and I do like to be _really_ scared, so the traffic light system should be fine. I can handle a lot. Plus, I trust you both, and Kihyun would also probably murder you if anything happened to me, so...”

Hyungwon’s smile curls cutely as he pats one of Changkyun’s dangling knees.

“Big strong boy wasn’t even scared of your collection, Min.”

“Oh, really?” Minhyuk’s eyebrows shoot straight into their hairline and their smile is positively _impish_ . They smush Changkyun’s cheeks between their warm palms. Press a feather-light kiss to his nose. Coo like a pigeon who’s just discovered a whole bucket of abandoned popcorn. They’re so goddamn _eager_ , like a big, overexcited puppy. Changkyun feels... small. 

“Are you a Big Strong Boy? So tough and confident— nothing scares you, huh?” 

Their lips get puffier and puffier with every word. Changkyun feels very, _very_ small.

“Do you ever... _use_ them?”

“All that torture stuff?” Minhyuk laughs. Changkyun swallows thickly. “No, _silly_. I don’t need any funny little human inventions to get the job done. You’re so cute.”

Echoes of ‘get the job done’ bounce around inside Changkyun’s skull, knocking heavily against the warmest, most tender bits of his brain. The phrase is so distant, so uncaring for something as serious as eternal torture. Changkyun wonders if Minhyuk smiles this brightly and squeezes this tightly when they’re ‘getting the job done’ on poor, damned souls. Or, maybe, they really look and act and talk as _superior_ as the cold phrase makes them sound.

“Oh _no_ ,” Hyungwon drawls, mouth turned into a pout tragic enough to rival Minhyuk’s. To rival _Changkyun’s_. He brushes a clammy finger along the shell of Changkyun’s ear. “You made his little ears turn red.”

Minhyuk full on _sobs_ and crowds Changkyun even _more_ , leaving Changkyun hyper-aware of their knee against the table, their knee between his legs, their knee _dangerously_ close to his crotch. They haven’t done a single thing, but Changkyun’s already puffing hot air out of his nose.

“We’re gonna have so much _fun_ , you tiny precious thing.” They peel themself from Changkyun to grin back at Hyungwon. Air hisses between Changkyun’s teeth as their knee slides away. So close.

“Not tiny— big _and_ strong, remember?” Hyungwon takes Changkyun’s chin between his fingers. Cold and damp as if he’d just dunked them in jello. “Are you ready? You gonna be good for us, angel?”

“Are we gonna have to break you in?” Minhyuk teases, nose scrunched so adorably that Changkyun’s heart physically _hurts_. 

Hyungwon makes a breathy, excited sort of noise, clearly intrigued by the possibility of breaking Changkyun in —whatever the fuck _that_ means— and Changkyun tries to swallow down the image of himself, broken and spent, because of _them_. But it gets caught in his throat. Sticky and sweet. 

Hyungwon gazes down at Changkyun with eyes like oil slick. Swirling. Clinging. They’re both suddenly so _close_. Hyungwon hovering right in front of his face. Minhyuk lightly pushing Hyungwon to get a better look at Changkyun. Changkyun presses the soft backs of his knees firmly against the table to make room for them. Close. _Too_ close. 

Changkyun’s lips part, he sucks in a deep breath, he nods.

“Words?” Hyungwon’s brow raises. And all Changkyun can really hear is his own breath. Minhyuk presses their fingers _into_ his cheeks, thumbs pushing up at the corners of his mouth.

“Let’s be clear,” Minhyuk hums. Changkyun’s eyes flicker uselessly between their cotton candy smile and Hyungwon’s oil filled pupils. As they creep closer, there’s something in the air— something _about_ the air that thickens on Changkyun’s tongue and weighs down his eyelashes. His brains have turned to ratty, old teddy bear stuffing. He’s _just_ sitting on a table. They’re _just_ looking at him. Thinking should _not_ be this hard.

“What’s wrong?” Hyungwon steps back to stand shoulder to shoulder with Minhyuk. Their heads connect. Twin frowns. Twin hands clasped in front of their chests. 

Changkyun’s nails dig into his jeans. Desperate for some sort of solid, clear sensation.

“Is the Big Strong Boy already overwhelmed?”

Changkyun shifts against the table, a chill running down his spine as the cold bites through his clothes.

“Maybe we should take him back to Kihyun’s.”

“With some freshly baked cookies.”

“A blankie around his shoulders.”

“A ribbon tied around his adorable—”

“Shut _up_ —” Changkyun’s voice falters as he slams his palms onto the table, fights his reaction to the needle prick shock of cold on his palms, and steels his expression. “You’re so... _obnoxious._ I’m _fine_. I just want—”

“We didn’t ask what _you_ wanted, silly.” Minhyuk flicks the tip of Changkyun’s nose. _Flicks_ it. Changkyun can feel his ears burning. Can feel cottony brain matter leaking out of them.

“ _We_ want _you_ to tell us how you’re gonna behave.” Hyungwon tilts his head. His gaze becomes a physical thing. Seeps into his hoodie. Cools against his skin. 

Changkyun shifts.

“Are you gonna be good?” Minhyuk mirrors Hyungwon’s head tilt. Their hair mingles with the smoke on Hyungwon’s head. It’s unnerving how in-sync they are. Parrots, the both of them. Creepy ass parrots—

“‘Cause good boys use their words.”

Changkyun didn’t want this to be nice and soft and easy. He didn’t. He wanted to poke creepy, mean demon Hyungwon with a proverbial stick and be showered in Minhyuk’s sunny praises. Maybe he should swallow his own tongue. Make them pull both the tongue and the words back out of him with their demon magic. Then, Hyungwon might go all bitchy and spooky, and Minhyuk will cuddle the shit out their perfect, precious angel and—

“Be a good boy.” 

Changkyun hears Hyungwon’s voice. He’s sure of it. But Hyungwon’s mouth doesn’t move. And the sound of it— each syllable, consonant, vowel sticks to the dark, fuzzy bits of Changkyun’s ears.

“I— I’ll be a good boy.”

Another set of twin motions. Bright smiles. Steps forward. Hands enveloping Changkyun’s own.

“Prove it.”

The table should’ve warmed beneath his touch by now, yet his ass is still freezing in his jeans.

“Stay still.”

The lights flicker. Changkyun didn’t notice any intimidating medieval fixtures or creepy dangling bulbs when they came in, so where...?

“Stay quiet.”

Minhyuk steps aside, gingerly removing their hand from Changkyun’s, finger by finger. They cross their arms. They beam down at Changkyun.

Changkyun tries to focus on the way their shirt bunches around their tummy. The way their teeth glint in the light. Normal things. Predictable things. But it's _hard_ . Because, with their respective heights, Minhyuk’s tummy shouldn’t be at eye level with Changkyun. Because the flickering light caught in their teeth is coming from everywhere, from nowhere at all. It doesn’t make any kind of sense— it’s not _right_.

He clutches the table.

Hyungwon catches his chin between his fingers again, guiding him to make eye contact.

“Color?” he asks, lips moving _too_ slowly around the words.

“Green.”

“Good. Now, watch me closely.”

And how could Changkyun not? An almost metallic sheen to his skin. Tendrils of smoke falling over his forehead. Round eyes pulling him in. Changkyun suddenly, _urgently_ wants nothing more than to fill his head with visions of him. Why would he want to see anything _other_ than Hyungwon, why would he want to look away from— 

A hand— _hands_ — not-quite-hands on his ankles. Ghostly, faded imprints of a pair of hands. Made of shadow. Trailing up, _up_ his legs and leaving streaks of charcoal in their wake. Like hot breaths against his thighs. Like shuddering gasps against his zipper.

Changkyun’s shriek is gravelly and _pitiful_.

“We’ve got a squealer,” Minhyuk giggles, and Changkyun suddenly remembers he isn’t alone in the room, that it isn’t just _him_ and these _shadows_ tugging at his waistband, but he can’t look away. He knows he isn’t supposed to be looking, and that good boys do as they’re told _,_ but— 

“Cute.” Hyungwon hums. Changkyun sucks in his stomach, pulling it up and _away._ “But what did we say, angel?”

 _Angel_.

Changkyun tears his eyes from the translucent fingers whispering over his zipper and finds Hyungwon’s eyebrows raised; beautiful and intimidating in ways that fucking _eyebrows_ have no right to be. He exhales.

“You said stay still and quiet,” he mutters, jumping as he feels a single ghostly finger trace circles over an exposed bit of nervous stomach. “And to watch you closely.”

“Let’s go again, okay? Let’s behave like a good boy.” Minhyuk’s voice softens Hyungwon’s measured disapproval. “Try looking over here this time.”

And Minhyuk’s is watching Changkyun so warmly, so _tenderly_. He wants to stroke their sweet, pretty face. Wants to get wrapped up in another one of their tight hugs. Wants to _touch_. Changkyun’s bottom lip quivers.

“Don’t be sad, precious.”

“Where’s that big, strong boy?”

“Show us how tough you are.”

Changkyun knows they’re mocking him. He does. But his stomach is filled with hot glue and Minhyuk looks happier and _happier_ with every word and he— 

“‘M gonna be good,” he says, voice lingering in the sticky back of his throat. Maybe being good, being _angelic_ would be easy. The choice between terrifying shadow hands and proud smiles should be an easy one. Should be.

A quick _zip_ tears through the room’s muffled silence, and Changkyun jerks backwards, legs tensing uselessly. He _feels_ the shadow hands working at his jeans. But he _can’t_ look. He won’t. ‘Cause Minhyuk is gonna be so proud of him.

He isn’t going to look, even as warm streaks of air curl around his waistband, urging his pants down. A real hand— Hyunwon’s hand, _surely_ , slides beneath his hip and lifts gently. The jeans and the shadow hands run smoothly back down his thighs. His calves. His ankles.

There’s a puff of warm air at his feet, and then the intangible sense of the hands’ presence is gone.The air is so _still_ and the table is so _cold_ and Changkyun’s underwear does nothing to help him feel less exposed, to stop the chill running down his spine, to—

“ _Minhyuk_ ,” he whines miserably. But they don’t answer him with any warmth or sweetness. They just furrow their brows and raise a hand to stop Changkyun from uttering another word.

“C’mon, Changkyun. You _know_ we told you to be quiet. Lay down.”

Changkyun looks to Hyungwon for mercy or forgiveness —he isn’t sure which— but he’s met with curled lips and fond eyes that make Changkyun feel anything _but_ saved.

“You better listen to them,” he hums. Delicately nasal. Sing-songy. He sounds delighted by the need to warn Changkyun, but Changkyun can’t imagine _why_. 

Hyungwon _should_ be delighted by how well Changkyun is trying to behave. He knows the demon’s prickly, but _what_ is it gonna take to win him over? To be praised and fucked just how an _angel_ like him deserves?

He frowns miserably, exaggerating a shiver for good measure. He wanted to be good. Really. He did.

“But I’m _cold_.” He kicks his legs and purses his lips. “And neither of you have even _touched_ me, yet, and my dick is _barely_ hard and all this has been more creepy than _scary_ and—”

“ _Up,_ ” Minhyuk growls, takes one large step forward, and hooks their hands beneath Changkyun’s arms again. Rougher this time. _Much_ rougher.

Moved around too quickly for thinking or whining or resisting, Changkyun raises his arms and blinks at Minhyuk’s frustration. They grab the hems of Changkyun’s hoodie and shirt, yanking them both off at once with such force that Changkyun struggles to stay upright.

Once his clothes hit the ground, Changkyun starts to lower his arms, but Hyungwon catches his eye. Just behind Minhyuk. Eyes narrowed. A little too much shadow clinging to his features.

Changkyun reaches for the ceiling, eyes wide and back arched. 

“I’m patient, Changkyun. _Real_ patient for a demon, and you’re real adorable for a human.” They drag their eyes up Changkyun’s bare torso, lingering on the elastic biting into his waist. Changkyun barely registers the compliment. They continue with a labored sigh, “But if you keep pushing it...”

Changkyun wiggles his fingers in the empty air above his head. It’s warmer up there, farther from Hyungwon, but no less still. No less heavy. 

Minhyuk’s so damn _cute_ even when they’re irritated. Plush frown and pink cheeks and hands on their hips. It’s so tempting to find out just how cute they’ll be when they’re _really_ mad. 

Changkyun twists from side to side and stares very intently at the gross stain clinging to the ceiling corner, as if he’s considering Minhyuk’s words with the _utmost_ care. If Changkyun were any good at resisting temptation, he probably wouldn’t be having sex in Hell right about now.

“ _Well?_ ” Hyungwon’s voice flutters up to Changkyun. 

Apparently, his patience is already wearing thin, too. Changkyun thinks of how _long_ it takes him to break Kihyun’s patience. He’s gonna get what he wants— gonna be _broken in_ so soon. He quickly swallows a grin and stretches his arms out in front of himself, meeting Minhyuk’s look of surprise with a frustrated whine.

“Touch me, Minhyukkie.”

Minhyuk’s hands envelop Changkyun’s shoulders, maneuvering him onto his back in one swift motion. Changkyun cries out as his skin slaps against icy metal, but all thoughts of further protest are swallowed by Minhyuk’s eye roll and twisted frown. 

“ _Touch me, Minhyukkie._ ” Their lip curls with disgust as they mock Changkyun’s voice, squeaky and broken. Changkyun flattens himself against the table, heartbeat pounding in his ears. “You sound so _pathetic_. You wanna try that again? Wanna order me around?”

Changkyun slowly shakes his head. His lungs flutter up to his throat as Minhyuk bends forward, flooding Changkyun’s vision with their irritated expression. 

“No? What happened to the big, strong boy?”

The sudden clatter of heels against the floor makes Changkyun start. The air shatters around what he knows are Hyungwon’s footsteps drawing closer. He wants to look at him, to see what he’s doing, to know how or why he broke the muffled silence of the room, but he can’t see _anything_ past Minhyuk.

Their hair hangs in front of their eyes. They grit their teeth. This Minhyuk is miles from the bright, blackberry-scented puppy of mere moments ago. And Changkyun isn’t sure he made the right choice, if _this_ is the cute irritation he expected.

“I think he’s scared,” Hyungwon says, not a trace of pity or mercy or worry in his voice. Still invisible. But _present._

“Oh, angel,” Minhyuk sighs, lacing their words with something slimy and unfamiliar that makes the hairs on Changkyun’s arms stand up. “We’re barely getting started.”

“Strip him.” 

Changkyun’s eyes dart upwards, straining to look behind and around his head where he just _knows_ Hyungwon is lingering. His breath weaves through Changkyun’s hair. The bit of table beneath his neck grows even colder with his presence.

“If he's so _tough_ , he should be able to do it himself. Don’t you think?” Minhyuk throws a skeptical look over... their own shoulder? Not behind Changkyun’s head. Not where Hyungwon is _definitely_ standing. Not right.

Changkyun’s tongue swells at the back of his throat.

“ _So?_ ” Minhyuk’s eyebrows shoot up to their forehead. “Strip.”

Suddenly, the idea of removing his underwear in front of Minhyuk and Hyungwon —wherever he is, he _must_ be watching— feels light years away from meeting Minhyuk that one time. By all means, Changkyun should’ve felt way more nervous meeting a colleague of a colleague —if someone who regularly wines and dines and doms you can still be considered a colleague— freshly fucked, only wearing a quilt, and not in his own house. But this is _so much_ worse. Maybe it’s the idea of stretching all of his damp skin over this freezing, sterile table. Maybe it’s the idea of exposing himself to the heavy, unearthly quiet.

Changkyun doesn’t move.

“Now, precious boy,” Hyungwon murmurs _right into_ Changkyun’s ear, but he’s _not there._ He’s not bending to speak directly into Changkyun’s skull. He’s not walking to or from the table. He’s _not here._

“ _Where?_ ” Changkyun whimpers. The worst thing about this is the idea of all his fragile, _human_ bits out in the open. With everything these two are. Everything they’re capable of.

“Here.”

Changkyun sucks in a sharp, icy breath as one of the shadow hands appears hovering over his dick. Its fingertips wiggle teasingly. Fine tendrils of smoke fall from its palm, lick at Changkyun’s fluttering lower belly, and disappear as they begin to _solidify_.

Changkyun blinks.

And Hyungwon is standing beside the table now, his own hand where the shadow was a moment ago. He grabs at the centimeters of air between him and Changkyun, still teasing. He smiles.

“Trust me; you don’t want _me_ to do it,” he says, and the cheerful lilt to his words shoots electricity straight down Changkyun’s spine. His blood crackles.

“ _No_. I will— let me—” He hooks his thumbs around his waistband, tugs his underwear down, and frantically kicks it over his ankles. His hands ball into fists and his voice cracks as his bare ass hits the table. The coo that erupts from Minhyuk on his right and the twinkle in Hyungwon’s eyes on his left make him feel utterly trapped. Displayed. 

“Good boy,” Hyungwon says, but his voice gets lost in the icy pain shooting through Changkyun’s head as his bare body settles against the table.

“Look at him,” Minhyuk sighs mournfully.

Hyungwon bites his lower lip and turns his eyes up to the ceiling for a moment as if in prayer. Changkyun would laugh if his insides weren’t so goddamn squishy.

Hyungwon lays a hand over Changkyun’s hip, thumb stretching to rub his soft, sensitive inner thigh. It feels like rain-soaked worms inching along his goosebumps. Disgusting. Changkyun wants to touch himself, to touch Hyungwon. 

“That’s the most adorable, pink dick I’ve _ever_ seen,” Minhyuk sobs.

Hyungwon scoops Changkyun’s dick up in his hand like he’s handling a fragile baby bird. Changkyun’s thighs tense up. His lips part. He _stares._

Stares at his dick in Hyungwon’s hand, equal parts mortified and entranced. It really _does_ look particularly pink against the dark, metallic tinge to Hyungwon’s skin. Hyungwon’s palm curves so _delicately_ around it that Changkyun’s blood pounds in his ears. Words fail and breaths stutter— he’s _helpless_. 

“And look at how _small_ it is,” Minhyuk says, placing a hand on Changkyun’s shoulder.

But Changkyun barely hears the comment, barely registers the touch because Hyungwon nods and mutters, “ _tiny,_ ” and the shadows outlining his hands begin to _stretch_. It must be an illusion— it _must_ be, but his hand is just getting bigger and _bigger_. And Changkyun’s dick really _does_ look tiny. Slightly swollen, splotchy. A wounded thing cradled in Hyungwon’s elongated, shadowy palm. It twitches.

“ _Minhyuk,_ ” Changkyun pleas; not knowing what he wants or needs or expects, but sliding his gaze to meet their shining eyes.

Instead of replying, they walk two fingers —mimicking a person’s gait so ridiculously that the electric haze in Changkyun’s head almost clears enough to make him laugh— towards his nipple and _twist_ it.

Changkyun jumps and beats a hand against the table. He starts to glare at Minhyuk, but is interrupted by spidery, half-warm fingers curling around his dick, enveloping it entirely.

A startled noise shreds at Changkyun’s throat.

“Aren’t you the _saddest_ little thing?” Hyungwon draws his words out with a pout, and drags the mostly-shadow hand up Changkyun’s length. Changkyun’s heels knock against the metal, and the heavy silence of the room breaks again to let the ugly _clang_ resound. Still rolling his nipple, Minhyuk snickers.

“Poor angel.” Hyungwon shakes his head sadly at Minhyuk, carefully stroking Changkyun. Chilled, damp skin and hot, heavy shadow swallowing his dick. Sweat beads on Changkyun’s forehead. Shivers run straight into his core.

”Don’t feel sorry for him. We’re being _way_ too nice, considering what a bad listener he is.” Minhyuk says.

Changkyun’s legs try to close at a sudden, tight stroke, but they’re pried back open by Minhyuk, who darts to Hyungwon’s aid. Roughly, impersonally they hold his restless thighs open. Changkyun’s feet slide and knock against the table as Hyungwon picks up his pace.

“I can’t help it; humans are so funny. Don’t you think?” Hyungwon smiles lightly at Minhyuk, and it’s enough to make Changkyun feel like he isn’t there at all. Like he’s just a _thing_ , splayed out on the table for them to poke and prod at. Like he’s another one of Minhyuk’s human collector items. 

Hyungwon continues, “All I have to do is this—” the shadow thumb traces his slit, “—and he whines like _that._ Or I can go like this—” fingers press into his perineum, “—and his tummy jerks like _that._ ”

Changkyun grits his teeth and tries to find purchase against the cold steel. He isn’t just some human plaything. He wants to tug Minhyuk back to him. He wants to thrust up into Hyungwon’s huge, dark hand. He _wants._

But Minhyuk and Hyungwon barely spare him a glance.

“Let go of his little cock— I wanna see how sad it looks now,” Minhyuk hums. They dig their fingers into Changkyun’s thighs as he shudders, dick now vulnerable to the thick air.

They erupt into thoughtful noises and pitying sighs, and Changkyun’s insides turn slick, scalding. He can’t even _see_ what they’re looking at past Minhyuk’s back, but clearly it’s grabbed their attention. _All_ of their attention— not an ounce spared for _Changkyun_ or for the heat in his belly or for his gravelly noise of protest. Minhyuk doesn’t even turn around. Hyungwon isn’t even _touching_ him anymore. And he’s been _good_. He has.

“Please— what the _fuck_ — why?” he stutters, teeth gritted. 

Minhyuk and Hyungwon instantly turn towards him. Eyebrows raised. Lips parted. And, then, they do that creepy twin head tilt thing again.  
“Don’t stop.” Changkyun begins to lift himself up, but, faster than Changkyun’s heated brain can even begin to understand, Minhyuk flattens a hand against his sternum and _pushes_. The air muffles the sound of Changkyun’s head hitting the table. Minhyuk checks his color, then throws an exasperated look back at Hyungwon.

“I _told_ you we were being too nice. He’s still being difficult.”

The building heat inside Changkyun cools and hardens quickly— _too_ quickly, like smelted silver all over his brain. Solidified in all its mushy, needy nooks and crannies. Glinting dangerously over the pink bits responsible for making decisions. For making good, reasonable decisions. Changkyun bares his teeth at Minhyuk, knuckles going white as he grips the table’s edge.

“And _I_ told _you_ to scare me. I thought you wanted to break me in with all your scary demonic shit. If you’re not gonna actually _do it_ , I’ll... I’ll—”

Minhyuk shouts something incomprehensible, a single word in a dry and heavy tongue. Hyungwon smiles gently at Changkyun over Minhyuk’s quaking shoulder. The air crackles for just an instant, and Changkyun’s brain goes right back to a white hot, liquified mess.

Minhyuk’s hands fly to his shoulders, but they aren’t _their_ hands— not the big, warm palms that hug Changkyun so tightly or the long, pretty fingers that playfully flick his nose. Their joints bulge cruelly beneath slate gray skin, and thick veins pulse with every movement. Cracked, metallic claws bite into his skin— too thick to pierce on contact, but made for grabbing and _tearing._ Mercifully, Changkyun supposes, the beastly hands just pin him down, his chest impossibly flat against the icy metal.

He gulps down liquid heat. He looks up.

“Care to finish that sentence? You’ll _what?_ ” Minhyuk snarls — a full blown, bared teeth, guttural noise, angry _snarl_ — and Changkyun whimpers at the sight of their distinctly canid teeth, dripping with saliva. “You’ll go crying back to Kihyun, so he can wrap your soft, fragile _human_ bits up in your blankies?”

They poke Changkyun’s cheek for emphasis; a single claw, hard and sharp enough to feel against his gums, to leave a pink indent. Changkyun doesn’t breathe. 

There are just two black caverns where their bright, quick eyes used to be. Bits of their porcelain skin have gone as gray as their hands; leathery flesh stretched over their cheekbones, tucked into their eye sockets, and trailing into the wet corner of their mouth. Changkyun’s reminded of the mummified dogs he saw at a museum once. 

A hellhound. Despite his interrealm diplomacy talents, he never was much good at identifying demonic species, and Minhyuk’s human form had been so pretty, so _convincing_ — 

“Humans. You’re all so whiny and _needy._ ” Minhyuk growls, running a paw through their hair. Frustrated. Angry.

“This one seems especially needy, though. Don’t you think?” Hyungwon slides up to Changkyun’s other side, peering down at him, all curious and amused again. 

“Most of the souls I’ve collected behaved so much better than this one does.”

A droplet of spit falls from Minhyuk’s bottom lip and lands on Changkyun’s chest. Thick. Cold. He wants to smear it over his goosebumps. He wants to stick his fingers in Minhyuk’s mouth. Changkyun’s dick throbs a bit.

“Hmm... But that means you never get to watch them struggle, and isn’t he _precious_ like this?”

Changkyun can only stare as Hyungwon tosses a hand through the air, as the shadows pooled beneath Changkyun’s shivery, sweaty body are pulled out from under him. They slither up his sides, collecting into threads that pin Changkyun’s arms to his sides, to the table. The same must be happening at his ankles and thighs because now they’re drawn together, too. He’s trapped. He can’t move. He can’t. 

He catches sight of his dribbling, ruddy dick. He feels the weight of their stares on his skin; hairs raised and goosebumps sprouting.

He thinks about what hellhounds can do— about the poor bastards down in PR when they get called in to clean up after a rogue hellhound who shredded through some innocent victim, family, village. _Shredded_. And the distant, reasonable part of his brain knows that Minhyuk is a trustworthy, loyal hound with an excellent reputation among humans etc., etc. But these are the same claws, the same teeth that _do_ that god awful shredding.

He looks up to find the sourceless white light flickering cruelly over Minhyuk’s features. Sharp and decaying. Waiting.

And Changkyun _can’t move_.

A gasp tumbles out of him as Minhyuk boosts themself onto the table, sets a knee beside each of his hips, and leans forward. They hold Changkyun in their empty eye sockets for one breathless moment, before diving for one of his ears. Their nose brushes against his scalp. Their breath bursts into his skull.

“Oh? Is that all it took? We just had to tie you down to get you to be good?” It’s the usual, playful Minhyuk voice, but the paw that tangles in the hair on the opposite side of his head and _tugs_ doesn’t let Changkyun forget who and _what_ he’s with, where he stands. With better access to Changkyun’s —flimsy, sensitive _human_ — ear, Minhyuk comes impossibly closer. They sniff. They _lick_.

An ugly startled noise rips itself from Changkyun’s throat as his instincts make him jerk away from Minhyuk’s tongue. Heavy and slobbery and insistent. They’re tasting him— he’s nothing but flesh and soul. Instinctually, he understands that he would never survive a fight with them, but he also has nowhere to flee. He just presses up against Minhyuk’s paw. He just strains against his own shadow.

“Please, _please_ ,” he sobs. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, he just knows that Minhyuk is only hovering above his body, _still_ in their fucking _jeans_. That the table is still frozen solid. That his —pathetic, swollen _human_ — dick _hurts_.

“You think begging will help?” Hyungwon asks, as infuriatingly intrigued as ever, but he’s doing that voice thing again. Where it sounds like he’s close— _real_ close to Changkyun’s head. Where he _isn’t._

Changkyun’s brain clicks into overdrive. He flails, he strains against his shadow, he cries out. Every muscle fiber tenses against the immaterial bonds. Minhyuk’s spit grows icy against Changkyun’s ear. He should break free. He should _run._

“Color, Changkyun?” Minhyuk asks.

“Green— really fucking _green_ ,” he rasps, back arching. His chest, his stomach is _so close_ to Minhyuk’s. They’re _almost_ touching. “But you _just said_ that you like it when I fight and squirm, so why— Want you real bad. Why won’t you—”

“Oh, sweet angel.” Minhyuk tilts their head, _mocking_ him, and Changkyun realizes that he has tears in his eyes. That he’s gonna cry. That the bonds have loosened _just_ enough to allow him to flutter his limbs uselessly, angrily. “Do you really think you’ve earned _anything_ from either of us?”

Changkyun sucks his lower lip into his mouth and narrows his eyes through the tears. Maybe he hasn’t listened very well today. So _what?_ He’s scared. He’s cold. And they’ve been _so_ — 

Changkyun scrunches his eyes shut for just a moment and, then, Hyungwon is there. Bending over him. Swiping tears from his cheeks with a warm thumb. He raises the dampened finger into the flickering light, as if examining it. Hyungwon smiles brightly at the remains of Changkyun’s tear. Changkyun feels like he’s on the edge of a cliff.

“But I wanna— we’ve been playing for so long, but I’m still...” He swallows the rest of his words as Minhyuk slides down his body, kneeling over his hips. _Not_ touching. Sweat gathers beneath his thighs. He squirms.

“Exactly. We’ve been playing for so long, _but_ you’re still misbehaving, Changkyunnie. You said you were gonna be good for us. You have to _earn_ what you want,” Minhyuk sighs.

Finally, _finally_ they begin to lower themself onto Changkyun’s thighs. Suddenly and inexplicably unclothed. Changkyun would praise all that is holy and unholy for hellhound magic apparently extending to human clothing, but he’s too busy squeezing his eyes shut. His toes curl. He whines. Skin against skin. They’re sitting on him, touching him. They’re right by his dick. _So close_ to where he wants them to be _so bad_.

“Maybe you still don’t get it, huh?” Hyungwon hums and cards his fingers through Changkyun’s hair, damp fingers dancing over damp scalp. “We’re _demons_ , and you’re nothing but a tiny human. You have to _earn_ what you want from us, you have to prove that you deserve it. Otherwise, we’ll just take and _take_ ‘cause we _can_. ‘Cause human souls—“

“ _Especially_ the tiny, needy, scared ones.”

“—they feel so nice in our bellies.” Hyungwon’s words ooze down onto Changkyun’s forehead like syrup, and Changkyun can’t tell if he’s fucking with him. He looks so serious, so sad. Like he can’t believe Changkyun doesn’t get to taste tortured souls. Like he can’t believe he hasn’t gotten to try Changkyun’s soul yet.

Minhyuk watches Changkyun’s dick weep, roughly sniffing and wiping drool away with the back of their paw.

“You’re lucky that we wanna bend you into a good boy more than we wanna eat you up.” Minhyuk trails a single claw around the base of Changkyun’s dick, ticklish and light. Changkyun thinks he might black out from the sheer force of his own need. “Because you’d be _powerless_ to stop us.”

Changkyun knows it. He knows it just as well as he knows that Minhyuk’s light touches are enough to raise goosebumps on his skin and make his head swim. He’s a fragile thing, entirely at their mercy. They can shape shift, control shadows, cast illusions— basically _anything_ , and Changkyun can only shiver and cry and _leak_ all over this table.

“So, let’s try once more. Prove that you can be a good boy.” Hyungwon cups Changkyun’s cheek, a gesture too gentle for how explosive, how urgent Changkyun’s insides feel. His thumb dips into the corner of his frown.

They’re relentless. They’re unfair. They really _aren’t_ going to give him what he wants until he behaves. Equal measures of frustration and arousal slide down Changkyun’s spine.

“Or _else_ ,” Minhyuk wiggles their eyebrows, and Changkyun wants nothing more than to wrap them in a really tight hug. Well. Almost nothing.

Minhyuk’s fingers dance around, press, _hold_ the base of Changkyun’s dick, and stars dance across the ceiling. Their fingers are curling. Their fingers are tightening. Hyungwon laughs at his breathless curse.

“Don’t come,” he says. “Can you do that for us? Can you hold it in, angel?”

Changkyun should probably be pissed off by the order. He should protest, demand to be given what he wants. But Hyungwon’s thumb parts his lips and rubs his teeth, and Changkyun can only think to open his mouth. He nearly sobs as Hyungwon’s thumb presses into his tongue, big hand stretching over his cheek. He tastes like rain. Changkyun suckles and sets his watery eyes on Minhyuk. His mind slips into something so much simpler, so much quieter.

He nods.

More of that grayish, mummified skin trails down Minhyuk’s body in thick slashes. Stretching over bone, seemingly moments from tearing. The skin is concentrated around their dick, which is curved, heavy against their thighs. Dark gray with flecks of Minhyuk’s human skin. It looks so bizarre and discolored and painful— so _otherworldly_ , that Changkyun’s lungs entirely deflate for a second. They’re beautiful and they’re perfect and they’re _right there._ And Changkyun doesn’t need to inhale; he just needs to know what that stretched skin and heated weight feels like inside him, anywhere, now.

“‘M gonna be good. Please let me be good for you.”

His fingers stretch and his arms tense. He wants Minhyuk _impossibly_ bad. He hollows his cheeks around Hyungwon’s thumb.

“I’m gonna make you cry, okay? _Really_ cry.” Minhyuk sounds so cheery again. So pleased. And Changkyun isn’t sure they’ll have to wait that long, that it’ll take that much effort because he’s already _so_ —

“ _Aw_ , but Min...” Hyungwon’s thumb gently rubs Changkyun’s tongue, making him scrunch his eyes shut. “He’s barely holding it together as it is. Poor thing. Are humans always this... fragile?”

“No, _no_.” Minhyuk clicks their tongue. “He’s a big strong boy, remember? He can take it. Can’t you, precious?”

Changkyun’s eyelids snap open as a bony paw wraps around his length. A single finger brushing against the veiny underside, its claw tickling and teasing.

He nods. Spit squeezes out from between his lips and Hyungwon’s thumb. He’d take _anything_ for Minhyuk. He can take it. He can be good. It isn’t that hard.

Minhyuk smiles down as his dick. Pumping it at an agonizingly slow pace and twisting around the head. Hyungwon shushes Changkyun from behind, his free hand whispering through Changkyun’s hair.

Just as Changkyun registers the table finally, _finally_ warming beneath him, a tight _snap_ rips through the air. A sudden onslaught of sound follows it; squishing precome, scuffing shoes, and metallic clangs all released from whatever’s been muffling the room up until now. 

Minhyuk releases his dick. Changkyun’s hands fly to his chest, curling into little fists, and he realizes the shadowy bonds have disappeared. His heart stutters. He gapes at Minhyuk, who looks back at him through heavily lidded eyes.

“I’m gonna ride him.”

“ _Min—”_

“I’m _gonna_ ride him,” Minhyuk repeats. _Insistent_. The way they’re talking _about_ Changkyun _to_ Hyungwon, when Changkyun is _right here_ , floods Changkyun’s dick with molten desperation and fear and _want_. They continue, “Just for a second. I won’t do any irreparable damage. Promise.”

They shoot a pinky finger into the air with a smile. But Changkyun only registers the fear settling into his bones, thick and buzzing. Hyungwon sounded uncertain about this. _Hyungwon_.

Changkyun’s pretty sure he’s never wanted something so badly in his life. 

“ _Fuck_. On top of me? Please.” His cheeks heat up at the way his voice sounds, rumbling from the back of his throat and pushing through the spit Hyungwon’s thumb has collected in his mouth.

Minhyuk —unprepped because, apparently, hellhound magic _also_ extends to asses— hovers over Changkyun’s dick and firmly grasps the base of it. Changkyun trusts them. Knows that they wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. But they haven’t prepped, there’s no lube, and—

And it’s fine. _Better_ than fine, actually. Fine in the sense that five star restaurants and blue velvet and platinum-encased diamonds are fine.

Changkyun’s toes curl and his fists tighten and the depth, the intensity of the sound he makes is his most embarrassingly desperate yet. He needs this— _exactly_ this. Needs it more badly than he’s _ever_ needed _anything_ in his whole human existence.

“Oh, I told you he was a squealer!” Minhyuk cheers. Embarrassment licks at Changkyun’s core. He’s so painfully _human_ , with his sad dick and squishy tongue and weak noises. And Minhyuk isn’t anything even _close_ to human. 

“I’m inside— _you’re so_ —” He can’t explain. Shouldn’t even try. They’re rough and scratchy, slick and sopping all at once. They’re taking Changkyun in and _tightening_ around him like he’s nothing at all. He feels trapped. He feels helpless.

Hyungwon lets Changkyun gnaw at his fingers as Minhyuk starts to _move_. Changkyun can _feel_ his dick tuck into wet crevices, brush against solid heat in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Can’t be possible. Aren’t _right_.

“How does it feel?” Hyungwon hums, reaching down with his free hand to rub gentle circles into Changkyun’s chest.

He feels like a fish on a hook, the sharp tip of it tugging his belly up, up towards the ceiling. His hands fly from his head, to Hyungwon’s wrist, to the table edges. His gasps sound like terror. His face looks like panic. Minhyuk’s raspy moaning is undercut with that smile— good and evil all at once.

“It’s _good_ ,” he sobs.

“He’s breaking,” Hyungwon coos like Changkyun’s twisting and fussing are the sweetest thing he’s ever seen.

And Changkyun _is_. He knows. He can feel himself shredding at the seams, each snapped thread creating a gaping hole. Maybe he’s already little more than a pile of sad fabric scraps. Maybe The Big Man Upstairs has decided to reward —to punish?— him for all of his hard diplomacy work with this. This abundance of _feeling_.

He arches into Minhyuk’s slow rocking and their insides _ripple_ over his tight skin. He wonders if his teeth will break the skin of Hyungwon’s thumb, if they even _can_ break it. His human teeth. His human mouth. And Hyungwon’s beautiful, metallic, impossible skin.

Hyungwon’s name drips past his lips. He has no idea if the other registers it, or if the name came out as anything more than miserable wetness. He can’t think straight. He can only _want_.

His senses are too, _too_ active. Goosebumps prickle at his skin as Minhyuk’s body squeezes and receives and rolls. The taste and smell of Hyungwon’s cold skin stuffs his mouth to the brim. Slapping and clanging wash over his eardrums. Tears sting his eyes as he sees— 

He sees _nothing_. Nothing at all. The vision of Minhyuk’s gaping eye sockets and wet smile disappear. The entire room is pitch black.

Changkyun shouts, and the force of his heartbeat flattens himself against the table.

“You okay, Changkyun?”

“Yes,” he chokes out. Crying— practically _wailing_ now. Hyungwon’s finger is gone, but Minhyuk is still on top of him. Minhyuk is still _enveloping_ him. Changkyun wonders if they can feel the fear spurting out of him, shivering through him. “ _Please_ — Was I good? I’m good. Think— I’m gonna come.”

The lights flicker back on. Minhyuk— soft, pretty, familiar _Minhyuk_ pouts down at Changkyun. They lift themself off of his dick as quickly as they got on top of it, shimmying off to the side to continue pouting. Changkyun imagines he should feel endeared or babied or _something_. But it just hurts. _Everything_ hurts.

“You took them so well,” Hyungwon’s hand cards through his hair, calling his senses back to the real world. Away from the phantom constriction around his dick. “You’re a good boy. We _knew_ you could be good, and we’re so proud of you.”

Changkyun’s damp eyelashes chill his cheeks ever so slightly. He breathes through the shudders wracking his chest, running straight to his dick. His absurdly, _painfully_ hard dick. That’s just leaking and leaning; _neglected_. He whimpers.

Minhyuk slides away to sit at the end of the table in fucking _criss-cross applesauce_. Changkyun wants to ask who and what they are, _how_ they act like _that_ after taking Changkyun in so ruthlessly, but his words dissolve like cotton candy on his tongue.

“I wanna make him come— never seen it up close before.” A match strikes over Hyungwon’s oil slick eyes. The clack of his heels keeps perfect time with Changkyun’s heartbeat. Changkyun wishes he could grovel before him, curl his tongue around the talon-like heels. He wishes he had enough strength in his jelly legs and lungs and hands to _worship_ Hyungwon.

“Oh, poor thing,” Minhyuk coos, their head perched cutely in their palms, hunched over to get a better look at whatever’s about to happen. “He’s _real_ worked up— gonna be a good one!”

The distance they put between them and Changkyun doesn’t fail to to increase the pressure, the heat between his legs yet again. His impending orgasm being referred to like it's an oncoming storm, like Minhyuk and Hyungwon are excitedly gazing up at the dark clouds after a drought, should be flattering. But it just makes him feel separate and strange and studied.

His back arches and his palms slap against the table. He whines. He doesn’t understand how these two can possibly tease out every last bit of desire from the heated and tangled mass in his own head, how they can possibly exist, how they’ve brought him so damn _close_ to—

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” Minhyuk gingerly strokes Changkyun’s inner thigh, but it provides no comfort. Only goosebumps and frustration and _need_. 

“I want— can I?”

In response, Hyungwon flattens a hand over Changkyun’s stomach. His palm cradles the curve of it, his fingers stretch over the shuddering breaths, his fingertips press into the soft skin. He smiles kindly— more kindly than Changkyun’s ever seen him smile. It makes his eyes look deeper. Less black and more violet. Changkyun feels _held_.

“Will you do it for me, little human?”

His mouth doesn't move, and neither does Changkyun.

“Yes. Anything.” 

The words linger on Changkyun’s tongue. Each of the nerves in his spine react to the sensations of falling, of darkness. As if he’s being swallowed into the cavernous mouth of hell, the central figure of some weird Bosch painting. He wants to push further into it. He wants to go sweet and quiet and _good_ , straight into it, wherever it leads.

He hears himself pleading. He feels Minhyuk’s hands and eyes and breath on him, everywhere, all at once. He sees Hyungwon.

And the hand on his stomach _tightens._ Changkyun’s release is a tangible _thing_ , pulled right out of him, wet and blurred and sharp all at once. All-encompassing. He goes rigid and still in Hyungwon’s hand for one dark, quiet instant.

Then, the pressure around and within Changkyun simply disappears, leaving him boneless and sweaty. He sinks against the table, icy once again. His senses prickle back to life. 

“Is he okay?”

“He’s okay.”

“He’s a good boy, isn’t he?”

“He is.”

Every muscle in Changkyun’s body aches as he hoists himself onto his elbows. Hyungwon’s limp hand slides into the threads of come around his dick, cold and slimy. Changkyun huffs.

“I _told_ you I was good.”

“It’s true,” Minhyuk says, sounding awfully dreamy and cutesy for someone who just permanently ruined all future non-demonic topping experiences for Changkyun ever. “He _did_ try to tell you he was a perfect precious angel boy.”

They clamor over Changkyun’s spent and sticky form and smother him in a hug, sandwiching Hyungwon’s hand between their stomachs in the process. They press light kisses to Changkyun’s neck as Hyungwon gazes sadly at his hand.

In the corner of Changkyun’s eye, he catches sight of Hyungwon’s shadow gathering. Building. Reaching up to Changkyun. It settles in his hair, feeling like warm and familiar breaths between each strand of hair. Tender and kind.

“When he’s feeling all better, I wanna play around inside of him. I heard that humans—”

“Hyungwon! Not now.” Minhyuk stops nuzzling Changkyun’s neck long enough to glare at Hyungwon. “The angel needs a moment.”

“Oh, _pardon_ me. Heaven forbid he hears me say something _impure_.” Hyungwon rolls his eyes. Changkyun sucks in his lips to keep from laughing. “Should I go grab a rosary while you two are at it? How about a couple of saint candles? I think they’d really suit the mood.”

Minhyuk squawks and begins to peel themself from Changkyun, but he tugs them back down with a koala-like hug. The spreaded remains of his come squish disgustingly between them. A shiver runs down both of their spines— assuming Minhyuk’s warbled insides would even need a spine, that is. He meets Hyungwon’s eyes through the mess of Minhyuk’s hair, and fights the urge to be swallowed whole by them yet again. 

“Candles? Yes. Rosary? No.” He mutters under Minhyuk’s weight, breathless for several different reasons. “We could try anal beads, though.”

With that uncanny simultaneity, their faces snap towards him. Mouths firmly shut. Eyes wide. Surprised or afraid or excited. No interpretation of their twin reactions safer than another.

It crosses Changkyun’s mind that he might, just _maybe_ , be doomed. He smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope u had fun with this changkyun !! it was neat trying to get back into his head after so long ,, n to put him out of his little quilted knicknacked ki comfort zone :^)
> 
> one kudos/comment = one brand new shiny set of rosary beads for changkyun
> 
> u can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/showmeurteef) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/showmeurteef)


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